


Homage to Boone

by Hagia_Hyena



Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Cannibalism, Crack, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-02
Updated: 2013-02-06
Packaged: 2017-11-27 20:51:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/666365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hagia_Hyena/pseuds/Hagia_Hyena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of comedic shorts revolving around the Courier and Boone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Boone, the zombie.” She slurred the words drunkenly as she threw her arm over his shoulder. “Boone, the zombie!” She said a little more insistently. He was trying his damned hardest to ignore her. He hated places like this. They reeked of booze and shame. He turned when he heard a loud cackling from behind him. Another of the patrons clinked his glass with his comrade as the hooker danced with her ass in his face. Her wanton movements brought a lascivious smile to the patron, but they only made Boone grimace.   
“Why are we even here?” He grumbled to the Courier.   
“Because what’s-her-name from the um… ambassador place said we needed to do something here.” She finished the absinthe bottle. “Is Atomic Cocktail alcoholic? I keep forgetting.” She squinted at the drink, trying to read the probably swimming print.  
“So do you think we should get to that task?” Boone snatched the bottle from her hands.   
“I forgot what it was. And give that back, I need it.” She swiped at it, but he just pulled it out of her reach. “But I’m addicted.” She whined. “What if we get shot at and my vision gets all blurry because you denied me what I need?”   
“Take a Fixer. You’ve been hoarding them, I’m sure we have about 50 by now.” He mumbled the last bit under his breath.   
“But that junkie said we need them to cure him.” She pressed her face into his shoulder and leaned in.   
“He said we needed two. I know we have more than that.” He pushed her away from him. His comment caused her to whine and stamp her feet in a child-like tantrum. He couldn’t hold back the laugh as she lost her balance and nearly fell into the pool.   
He took the tin from his bag and, ignoring her protests, he popped the pill into her mouth and held it closed until he was confident she had swallowed it.   
“See? All better.” He sneered. She glowered but said nothing.   
She remained pouting on the ground for several minutes before noticing the ghoul hooker again. Her expression melted from a scowl to one of fierce determination.   
She stood and dusted herself off before looking him dead in the eye and saying, “Boone, lets go fuck that zombie.”   
He sighed.


	2. chapter 2

The comic was bad. Painfully bad. It physically hurt Boone to sit here and listen to him - bad. He stood from the small table and returned to the counter for another beer. Francine refused his payment, instead offering him any and all beverages on the house.  
“You sure?” He was genuinely surprised at her generosity.  
“Yeah, it’s the least I can do. We really owe your friend up there.” She gestured to the VIP lounge that her brother and the Courier occupied along with a number of the Wrangler’s “entertainment providers”.   
“Ah, I see. And here I thought it was an act of mercy.” He took the beer from her and gestured back to the comedian.   
“I would think the only ‘act of mercy’ for you would be a bullet to the brain, sad sack.” Yep. Same old Francine. He chuckled despite himself. Francine was alright. Abrasive - but alright.   
In the hours the Courier had been up there with James Garret, Boone had nearly drunk himself stupid. He eyed the slots behind him, knowing he had well over 40,000 caps in his bag. The Courier had entrusted him with this because “if I can’t see it, I can’t spend it all at the Gun Runners” and in his drunken state, he realized this was a BIG mistake on the nut job’s part. The shiny machines beckoned to him, but he shook their siren’s song out of his head. We need to get out of here.   
He stumbled his way up the steps, having to have a lay down on the couch in the foyer before continuing to the VIP room. He had been left a copy of the key “in case those dick robots come after me”. He fumbled at the lock, the odd robotic drill and squealing of the Courier probably masking the sounds of his failure in the room. When he finally got the door open it was to a very odd sight.   
The first thing he noticed was James Garret humping away at some hidden orifice on the protectron the Courier had dubbed “Fister Roboto”. The second thing he noticed was Garret’s look of horror at being discovered performing his dirty little secret. The howling laugh of Beatrix Russell drew his attention away from the robot fetishist. He now saw the Courier standing over a rather portly, and naked, man. The girl was clad in Beatrix’s cowboy hat and boots, her own underwear and nothing else. She had a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a bull whip in the other.   
“Again!” Beatrix cackled. The Courier took a swig from the bottle before handing it off to Beatrix. The ghoul pulled the man so he was lying over her lap. He seemed to find the whole situation quite amusing.   
“Squeal lack a pee-ugh!” The Courier drawled in her best manly voice. The result was a hysterical fit of laughter from herself and the other two - an inside joke that apparently he had missed. She half-heartedly lashed the thighs of the man on the ghoul’s legs. He made a sound that Boone assumed was supposed to be a squeal. A breeze rush past him and he looked around to find that James Garret had vanished.   
“What’s so funny?” He slurred. The room was spinning violently. He shut the door behind him, wanting no one else to experience the horror of what he was seeing. He slid down against the wood, not trusting himself to sit down without the aid of a sturdy wall.   
With a loud ‘thump’ Beatrix pushed the man from her thighs. She then reclined in the chair in the most sultry way she could manage.   
“See anything ya like, gorgeous?” She croaked. The courier giggled, she had sunk to the floor next to the naked man and they were both making an attempt at a coquettish pose. They failed miserably.   
“I came to -” Why had he come up here? “I -” He squeezed his eyes shut. Focus, Craig. “We gotta go, I don’t wanna slot all this money.” He managed to force out.   
“What money?” The Courier asked, genuinely confused.   
“The money you gave me to -” The room was a beige and red blur. His face felt clammy, now he would either pass out or throw up. He hoped it was the latter. He didn’t want to be unconscious in a room with the demented Courier and the harsh ghoul. If he could just hold -  
“Please, a-ssume the po-si-tion.” The robotic voice chimed from beside him. Oh no. He looked down at himself to see that he still wore his underwear and shirt. He sighed. Hopefully that was good news. Looking around he found that he was also in the same room from last night, and it was empty apart from the FISTO robot.   
“Please, a-ssume -” He pushed the thing over onto it’s back as he got off the bed.   
“Get away from me.”   
He searched the room for the rest of his clothing while the robot struggled pathetically to right itself. He finally found them on the vanity next to a heart shaped Jacuzzi. On the mirror, scrawled in bright red lipstick was the word “gotcha”. He pondered the meaning of the cryptic message before catching a glimpse of his reflection. Down the side of his face and neck, drawn in thick black ink, was the most monstrous looking cock he had ever seen.


	3. Chapter 3

Her ass was hanging out the bottom of the skimpy nightie. Why she was wearing that when she had 3 perfectly good sets of armor was beyond him.   
“I’ve got that light leather armor in my bag. That would probably be more useful than what you have on now.” He offered.  
“I like this. It’s hot.” She continued strutting along.  
“No it isn’t, it makes you look like an idiot.”   
His response was met with a fist to the face.   
“I meant the temperature, asshole.”


End file.
